


Unrequited

by rakefire



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo stress bakes, Chekhov's Swing, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Idiots in Love, Let Them Talk, Luke Has a Secret but Can He Keep It?, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Peak Dumbassery, Rey is a nervous talker, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yoda is a Dog, sex dungeon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-01-10 21:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakefire/pseuds/rakefire
Summary: Ben loves Rey. Rey loves Ben.He thinks she loves someone else. She thinks he knows how she feels and doesn't reciprocate the feelings.What happens when they are trapped in the same house for a weekend?ORWelcome to Ben and Rey Pain Train! We have a dog... and stuff.





	1. One Big House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomorrowthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomorrowthestars/gifts).



> I mixed some of the prompts together in a cocktail with SLIGHT modifications.  
> I hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to [RebelRebel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelRebel/) and [commandercrouton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandercrouton/) for all the help. <3

 

It’s been ten days, nineteen hours, fifty seconds since Ben Solo’s heart was broken.

He has told himself that it’s fine—he’s an adult, after all. This is not the first time he’s experienced it. He’s told himself that, _well, okay, it hurts but that can’t be the end of everything._  He’ll get over it. Time will heal everything. He’ll get used to this new reality.

But the truth is, if there’s anything that he’s gotten used to the past few days, it’s the taste of heartbreak.

Rey Jensen is _off limits._

He winces as the familiar ache blooms once again in his chest. He stares at the ceiling, the sunlight peeking through the curtains.

Mornings are always the hardest. They always feel like a fresh start—but not in a good way; it’s as if whatever demon he has fought and defeated the night before shows up again with the same energy like that of a morning show host with too much caffeine.

_Good morning! Did you sleep well? Did you think about Rey Jensen again?_

_Did you forget already that she’s in love with someone else?_

_Who’s not you?_

_Who will never be you?_

Ben forces himself to sit up and stumbles out of bed. He needs coffee, and probably four hours of a work out. On Saturdays, the gym is usually packed at this hour. He should’ve woken up sooner. The thought of seeing a lot of people in a public space doesn’t entice him, especially since he’s in a foul mood.

It’s not that today’s special. He’s always been in a rubbish mood now that he thinks of it. _It’s been ten days, nineteen and a half hours, ten seconds..._

 

***

 

“No.”

He hears his mother sigh at his response. He closes the fridge with his foot, his hands are occupied with a big stainless steel bowl and a bag of almond milk while his phone is pressed between his cheek and shoulder. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why not?” his mother asks.

He puts down the bowl and the almond milk, and then opens the shelves for the rest of the ingredients and a box of chocolate chips. “Because,” he opens the drawer in front of him, taking out the measuring cup and slamming it on the counter. “I don’t want to. Luke has high-tech security system, why would he want me there? It’d be redundant. And a waste of time on my part.”

“Ben,” she says. “I think it’s safer if there's someone in the house.”

“But what if there’s a burglar who gets passed security—I say if, because you know how much he paid for it—and then they beat me up?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, honey. No one can beat you up.”

“You’re obviously biased,” he puts down the phone and turns on the speaker. “By then, I could be half dead from boredom and too weak to fight off his dog, let alone a burglar.”

“Luke has a lot of toys you can play with,” she laughs. “You two used to play video games together until you were, what, fifteen?”

“Exactly,” he scowls. “There’s a reason why I stopped hanging out with him. And oh, let’s not forget, Mother, he almost ruined my life.”

“Oh, please,” she clicks her tongue. “It's been years and he already apologized, Ben. I thought you did well last Christmas. You even bought him a gift. Although yes, it’s just a pair of socks you bought at Walmart last minute. But it was progress.”

Ben grips the edge of the kitchen island, throwing his head back while shutting his eyes. _The reason why I did that, Mother,_ _was because someone had asked me to. And I just wanted to see her smile, okay?_

“Ben, please.”

He presses his hand on his nape. “I can’t. I’m busy.”

“It’s Saturday,” she pushes.

“You work on Saturday.”

“Come on, sweetie. Just for one or two days.”

“Which one is it? One or two days?”

“It’s for the weekend. He’ll be back Monday morning.”

“Jesus,” he laughs. “I have a life, Mother.”

His mother gasps. “You do?”

Ben bites his lower lip. Here we go.

“Are you seeing someone?” she asks, sounding a bit too eager. "Is she with you now?”

“I’m not—” he sighs. “I’m not seeing anyone. But I do have work. I have to grade papers.”

“Grading can be done anywhere, Ben. You can do it at Luke’s.”

“I’d rather do that in my own house,” he opens the bag of flour and pours it into the measuring cup. “Also, I’m baking at the moment. See? Busy. You should be happy that your son is productive even on the weekends.”

Ben thinks she will relent and leave him alone when there’s no response. But of course, that doesn’t happen.

“Why are you baking?” she asks. “Is there a problem?”

He should’ve thought twice before telling her. Leia Organa-Solo may have often been absent during Ben’s childhood, but the woman knew him _too_ well.

“No problem,” he replies, placing the cup on a scale. He adds a little bit more flour, before adding the baking soda.

“Then, why are you baking?”

“It’s a hobby, Mother. People bake to relieve stress.”

Ben cringes. Another mistake.

“What stress? Did something happen?”

_A woman I’m in love with doesn't love me back—_

“Nothing.”

“Ben,” she says. “You know you can tell me if anything happens, right? Just like when you lost your virginity—”

“Oh, my god!” he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Nothing, okay? I just want chocolate chip cookies and I’m too lazy to go to the store. It’s not that deep.”

“Okay,” his mother huffs. “But lose the chocolate chips. We don’t want Yoda to get sick.”

Ben raises his eyebrows. “Why would Yoda want my cookies?”

“Luke left him in the house.”

 

***

 

Somehow, Ben finds himself standing in front of Luke’s door with a bag of homemade dog treats, just like his mother told him to do instead.

She’s told Ben the passcode and texted him a long list of instructions. Yoda is an old dog, and a needy one. It is so uncharacteristic of his uncle to leave him alone in a big house without a sitter.

Well, now Ben is the sitter. Apparently.

He still doesn’t feel like house-sitting, especially for Luke. But at least now he’s getting out of his house. Maybe this can make him feel better—a change of scenery and all that. Maybe he can stop thinking about her.

He remembers that afternoon like it was yesterday.

_All I want to do is just grab him and kiss him._

Her voice keeps repeating in his mind. _I like him so much, it hurts._

Ben wasn’t supposed to hear that. He didn’t go to her part of the building that often; usually, texting would be suffice. And that day, he felt like visiting her since he was just out of a meeting with the dean of the faculty. So, yeah, he went there. She was on a phone call with a friend when he was about to ask her to have a lunch with him.

Recently, lunch has become their thing— _was_ their thing.

It took him a year to be friends with her. When she first showed up, Ben had already fallen for her. It was that easy. The hard part was actually talking to her or finding an excuse to do it. Ben has never been the type who makes friends easily, especially when the subject of friendship is not _exactly_ his peer. But in one opportune moment, and then many more after that, they became friends.

Life is weird that way.

She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. A goddess, even. He's spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about her and her bright hazel eyes that often turns him into a flustered puddle or her chestnut hair that smells like flowers and coconut, or her kissable freckles and pink lips. And her laugh? It sounds like honey. He can listen to her talking all day. And it's not just because she's adorable and funny; she's one of the most brilliant people he has ever met, too. 

At first, Ben didn't know how to approach their newfound friendship because she's still a considerably new research associate—although, not his—and almost a decade younger than him. But fortunately, it has never been a problem because Rey is just _amazing._

They can talk about anything, and unlike his other colleagues, she never tiptoes around him.

Ben is not a monster—okay, maybe his students would call him one, but his social ineptitude is not something that would go unnoticed. He’s also a big guy—tall and wide with big bones and long limbs, with a face that looks like he constantly needs coffee in an IV. He’s got a pair of ridiculous Dumbo ears he always covers with his dark hair. Not to mention his huge nose and weak chin. Strange looking, not exactly the kind of dreamboat that students flock around (although for reasons he can’t comprehend, he receives love letters and gifts once in a while—which he never bothers to open because it's very likely that they're just practical jokes).

He never munches his words, either. Honesty is the best policy and all that.

He’s really good at driving people away—sometimes, deliberately. But not Rey.

She wormed her way into his cold dead heart one smile at a time. She reduced him from a scary-looking swamp creature to whatever the fuck he's turned into lately. All smiling like an idiot when she's around—or when she isn’t, because the thought of her is enough to brighten his day.

That was, until ten days ago.

Rey was in the middle of talking about this guy whom she apparently _likes so much, it hurts_ when he stepped into her lab. A tiny part of Ben’s useless brain, for some stupid reason, came up with something like, _is she talking about me? Because if she is…_

But then, she said, _no, Ben doesn’t know. Why would I tell him? We’re just friends. Well, not like us kind of friends. I don’t think that’s going to change._

And in an instant, the world turned dark—like, the birds stopped singing and the sun disappeared as he realized that if this were one of those garbage romance movies, he would be that one pathetic guy who thought he was the hero but turned out to be the heroine’s sidekick. And even worse, he wasn’t the person the heroine confide in; he was the strange guy who eavesdropped when she talked to her _actual_ best friend.

Ben knew he should’ve have left, but instead, he just stood at the door, listening to Rey laughing at their _friend_ status. She didn’t even think he was worthy enough of knowing about her love life. Unlike whoever she was talking to on the phone. So, he was just… a guy, then. Ben from work.

 _I’m not telling him,_ she chuckled. _What would he think of me? That I haven’t been able to do my work properly because my mind goes somewhere else? Look, it took months for Ben Solo to take me seriously, and I don’t want him to think of me less because of dumb stuff like this. Are you kidding me? I don’t think he would like—_ Ben!

She turned around and saw him there. Her mouth fell open and her face was blushing red, like a child getting caught red-handed stealing a cookie in a jar.

 _B-Ben,_ she said. _I didn’t—I didn’t mean..._

After that… well, awkward is not even the right word for it.

Ben has found his way to cure his heartbreak—well, he’s _trying._ He's abruptly limited his interaction with her, and he's been baking  _a lot._ They don’t go to lunch together anymore. He would turn around if he saw her in the hallway, hoping she didn't catch him running like a coward. He can’t face her until he’s ready.

But it’s been ten days and he starts to think he may never be ready. And who knows how long he can avoid her at work.

Now, though, he has another problem to deal with. A dog problem.

“Yoda!” he calls out, putting his messenger bag on the couch. He puts his car keys on the desk and saunters to the other room.

Luke’s dog is an ugly—probably, the ugliest—Boston Terrier with sleazy eyes, flaky nose, and perpetually drenched tongue. He’s named after Luke’s mentor for shits and giggles. “It’s like Yo Dawg,” he remembers his uncle telling him and laughing like it was the funniest joke. “Get it? Ow, smile a little, Benny. He won’t bite.”

But Yoda already did bite Ben. More than once.

Luke’s dog hates Ben, and the feeling is mutual. Now he has to take care of that little shit for the weekend and he can’t even find him.

“Yoda!” he calls again. “I have treats for you! I made them myself, you know!”

Despite the hatred between the two, treats has always been their one alliance. Ben doesn't mind making them, and Yoda eats everything. Usually, once the dog hears the word ‘treats’, he would immediately run to the source. But strangely, not this time. 

Ben checks around the house to search for any door or window left open Yoda might have escaped from.

Everything is locked, like how it’s supposed to be, but the dog is still nowhere to be found. In that moment, Ben begins to worry.

Suddenly, he hears a lock being clicked open. Ben turns around and—

He stops dead in his track. There’s Yoda with his wet tongue out—still looking pompous and ugly as sin. He’s covered in a towel, looking a bit damp. But that’s not where Ben’s attention is.

Someone’s carrying the dog. Unlike the clean-looking dog, there’s mud and few cuts of grass all over her clothes and a bit on her soft hair and pretty face. Her hazel green eyes, the same eyes he keeps thinking about, are staring back at him in surprise.

“Ben?”

He swallows. “Rey?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I need to take a shower."

That's what Rey says. It doesn't feel like her voice; it sounds so scripted. It's almost like they're in a sitcom, with one character standing in the kitchen and another character entering from the backdoor with a wet dog, saying something that prompts a canned laughter. That is her. She's the canned-laughter girl.

Suddenly, the canned-laughter dog jumps out of her arms and shakes his body, drops of water flying everywhere, including Ben’s pants.

But Ben Solo is still staring at her, seemingly not caring about the wet stains on the lower legs of his slacks. She notices the intensity in his eyes—something that is _so_ Ben. It always has that specific impact on her. She becomes hot under his gaze so easily, and this time is no exception.

Add that with the state she's in right now. Dirty, like she just rolled over a swamp like a pig.

Rey just chased down Luke’s dog all over the neighborhood as soon as she realized the back door was open. Once she captured him, he was already dirty and in need of a wash. It was indeed a challenge.

She should've thought twice before agreeing to dog sit her mentor’s dog. Especially since... 

“Okay,” Ben blinked hastily before making a way for her. 

She walks quickly to the bathroom, eyes screwing shut and her heartbeat racing. The moment she's inside Luke’s luxurious bathroom, she locks the door and rests her back against it, allowing herself to finally breathe.

_Ben Solo. Ben Solo is here. Why is he here?_

One explanation—he is Luke’s nephew. He might be just visiting his uncle. Which leaves one question— _why?_ Ben and Luke are… estranged, somewhat?

Rey knows this. She knows how Ben hates to be in proximity to Luke when she first knew him. The fact Ben agreed to spend Christmas with Luke was a testament to how their relationship improve. He even bought him a gift. Although, it was because she asked him to. But still, it was a good start.

Well, maybe things have gotten better since last Christmas? Like in the last few days since _that_ incident occurred.

Rey groans as she allows the stream of hot water hitting her face.

That phone call was probably the stupidest thing she’s ever done. She should’ve waited until she was home at least. She was talking with Finn on the phone when Ben showed up. She had no idea how long he was standing there, and she couldn’t ask.

Her best bet was he heard _everything._

He could’ve heard when she was gushing about his honey-colored eyes, the specks of golden dust on his irises that drove her crazy. His plump lips and his deep voice. How she could never focus on what he was saying without wanting to lick her own lips—or his! His soft dark hair that looked so good in the morning when she saw him getting out of his car from her lab’s window. And how good he's been to her.

Doctor Ben C. Solo is not like his stern exterior—at least, not in front of Rey. She still doesn’t know why.

And maybe she will never know, because he is _totally,_   _unmistakably_ not into her!

How could she be so foolish?

The moment she saw him that day, she knew how much she screwed up. He started avoiding her ever since, probably too polite to be straightforward and telling her _no, Rey Jensen, I don’t see you that way. And never will. I thought we could be friends, you know, platonically. How dare you taint our friendship by objectifying me like that? You disrespect our esteemed acquaintance by being horny all the time. And even worse, this is a workplace! How can I face you now? Shame on you._

Rey hits her head against the tiled wall and proceeds to scrub her skin clean and washes her hair. If only she could wipe that incident from their memory as well.

Later, she finds Ben still in the kitchen with Yoda. She leans on the door, letting herself enjoy the sight of him playing with the dog for a moment. Her heart still aches even after days since the last time they properly spoke.

“Sit!” he orders, kneeling on the floor while one hand is holding the treats high enough for Yoda to not reach. “No. No treat if you don’t behave ow—sit!”

Yoda keeps jumping around, seemingly interested more in the treats than following Ben’s order. “No! Sit!” he points his index finger to the floor, growing impatient.

Rey notices a cotton drawstring bag on the counter.

“Are those homemade treats?” she asks.

Ben’s back suddenly tenses before he turns his head to her. “Uh, yeah,” he replies, his eyes following her as she comes closer. “I was baking when my mom told me to make treats for this guy instead.”

“Right. You bake,” she nods, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his stare. She should’ve brought better clothes, not some ratty old sweater from her high school robotic club. And her hair must’ve looked less presentable. She presses her lips into a straight line, hoping to cover how pale they are without lipgloss.

She's usually a confident person, but having been away from him for days on end while being embarrassed about the reason why is enough to make her feel like crap. Especially since he looks so good. _Damn, that hair looks so smooth—_

“What were you baking?” Rey asks instead, derailing her train of thought as she rubs her palms down her leggings. “You know, before the treats?”

“Chocolate chip cookies,” he says. Yoda suddenly yelps, so Ben pays attention to him. “Sit! Good boy!” He then pauses for a moment. “I didn’t get to make them, though. I had to drive here as soon as possible.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” she says. “I have always wanted to know how they taste like.”

“Yeah, I promised you before, didn’t I?” He gives Yoda another treat, “But I don’t want your first experience with my baking to be dog treats.”

Rey snorts, and then she can’t help giggling at his deadpan delivery. But immediately, her smile falters as she becomes aware that he’s been staring again.

He looks surprised, and his hand pauses in the air, ignoring the dog begging for more treats. And she can’t lie that the image of him right now, kneeling on the floor with his eyes widen as they are piercing into her, is not a bad look at all. She’s been fantasizing Ben Solo _kneeling_ in front of her so many times that—

She clears her throat, and Ben’s attention is on the dog treats once again.

“I think—I think I better get going,” she says.

“Why?” he suddenly gets to his feet and advances on her. 

“I—uh,” she swallows, unprepared for their sudden closeness. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I didn’t either,” he says. “My mom told me to house sit while Luke’s out of town. Just this morning, actually. And I have no choice since she said he didn't bring Yoda with him.”

“Luke asked me to dog sit yesterday,” she shrugs. “He didn’t say anything about you this morning when I saw him.”

“Really.”

She nods. “And,” she clears her throat again. “Since you’re here, I don’t think I should stay. You seem to know how to deal with Yoda—”

“He hates me.”

Rey blinks, “Excuse me?”

“The dog,” he sighs. “He hates me.”

She looks at Yoda who’s now munching his treats. “He likes your treats.”

“He likes _any_ treats,” Ben rolls his eyes. “Trust me, he would chew my hand off if I lowered my guard. I’m not good with this dog. At all. He really despises me. He will for as long as he lives. I can deal with other dogs, but—”

“Right. You mentioned about your family dog—”

“—not this dog,” he pauses, his eyebrows raised. “Yeah. You remember.”

_Of course. And I remember other things you told me, too. At this point, I’m probably a walking Ben Solo dictionary—stop it, you creep!_

“So,” she stares at the floor. “Do you want me to stay?”

He works his jaw, before swallowing thickly. “Yeah,” he says. “Unless… unless, you have something else to do? Another plan with… someone… else?”

“What?” Rey raises her eyebrows. “No! No, why would—no,” she chuckles awkwardly. “I would probably just go to bed early. You know me, I have no life.”

She sees his lips almost quirk upward, before he looks serious again.

“So,” he says.

“So,” she says.

Yoda barks, and they break eye contact. Ben is shushing him, “These are for tomorrow!”

Rey bites her lip to hold herself from laughing. It's been a while since she saw Ben Solo on the brink of losing his shit. It's adorable, but she'll never tell him that.

“Yoda, sit!” she orders, and the dog follows. She kneels down to ruffle his head. “Good boy!”

“How did you do that?” Ben asks, his tone is laced with disbelief. “He doesn’t even listen to me without treats. Or with treats.”

She looks up at him. “Nothing comes down without a fight, Solo. You should’ve seen the bloody mud bath we were in this afternoon. It was nasty.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, folding his arms. “I can imagine that.”

“I had to bathe him after that.”

“And you did it by yourself. Amazing.”

“I know I am,” she grins.

Ben smiles back, his eye twitches.

Rey starts feeling nervous again, so she lifts the dog off the ground, and carries him. “Are you hungry?" she asks, faking nonchalance. "Maybe we should order some food. We can also... watch a movie or something?”

Ben stares at her, unmoving. _It’s not a date,_ she wants to add. _Don't worry, it’s not—_

But then he nods.

 


	2. One Dog (of Mischief)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, thank you so much for your response!  
> tomorrowthestars, you are the sweetest. I really hope you like where this is going. <3

After not being able to choose which movie they should watch, they settled with rewatching _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ while having pizza for dinner. Ben is talking to his mother on the phone while making sure he activates the security system for the night. Meanwhile, Rey is sitting on the couch with leg warmers on while Yoda is asleep right next to her. She makes sure Ben is not behind her when she reads Finn’s message.

 

Finn: Oof

Rey: I know

        this is so wrong

Finn: But feels so right?

Rey: I mean, maybe?

        what are the chances that we’re both at Luke’s at the same time??

Finn: So, r u two gonna 👀

Rey: no! Are you kidding me?

Finn: You’ve been moping around all week

Rey: I have not!

       also it’s not like I can make him suddenly interested in me or anything.

Finn: Yes, you can 👌🏿

         like maybe you can wear 👀 compromising 👀 outfits.

         He’s a straight dude

         And straight dudes are dumb

Rey: i’m NOT wearing any compromising outfits!

       <photo>

Finn: Oh that’s cute.

         you look like every white girl in one direction fanfictions

Rey: i’m not gonna ask how you know that

       he’s back

       gotta go

Finn: Yeah, we don’t want him to catch us talking about him again, right? 😜

         Use protection, mmkay? 💦💦

         Good luck!

Rey: 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

 

Rey puts her phone close to her chest as Ben sits down on the other side of the couch, careful not to wake Yoda up. She thinks his eyes flicker to her phone for a brief moment, before looking at the dog nestling between them.

“Oh, look,” he says. “The hellhound’s asleep.”

She chuckles, “He’s not that bad.”

“Really?” he smirks, resting his head on his hand. Feeling her cheeks burn again, Rey looks away while stroking Yoda’s head.

“Well, maybe.”

“Hm.”

“A little bit.”

“Right.”

“I probably scared little kids in the park today,” she laughs. “I tried to put him on a leash but he keeps fighting me. I hope no one called Animal Protection.”

“If that happens,” he says as he stretches his long arms and legs. “I bet they’re going to protect you from him.”

She bites her lower lip, hiding her smile. He seems a lot more relaxed now, and maybe she does, too.

Ben puts on his glasses and takes out his students' assignments from his messenger bag, starting to grade them while Rey's paying attention to the television. Once in a while, a random commentary about the episode comes up between them. She only leaves the couch to make two cups of tea before sitting next to him again, continuing their comfortable silence and occasional chuckles the show draws out of them.

Everything feels… normal again. At least, Rey thinks so.

A tiny part of her thinks maybe this is fine. That Ben Solo being her platonic friend would be the next best thing.

They’ve been just friends for a while now. An unlikely friendship that started off with the last energy bar in the vending machine. Then, an accidental encounter in a laser tag arena, and a _less_ accidental encounter in a bookshop he frequents which later, she does, too—for actual research purpose, of course.

Having read some of his works before, Rey had already noticed him ever since she got admitted as a research assistant. He stood apart from the rest of the faculty—still does. She was curious, and he was proven to be an interesting individual. If at first her intellectual curiosity was what brought her to him, once she knew him personally, things changed for the better.

Sometimes, she feels it was a bit disingenuous on her part that she already had a thing for him before they became friends. Of course, during the course of their budding friendship Rey was trying to play it cool—because as much as she wanted more from him, she couldn't really tell how he felt about her and she couldn't push. Flirting is not her strongest suit, after all. 

For that reason, she’s been holding herself back from expressing her feelings. She didn’t want to ruin what they had.  

But shit happened anyway.

It still stings a little after that one afternoon he stopped seeing her. She visited his office a couple of times to talk—and maybe, if she was brave enough, to actually have a conversation with him about the incident, but he was never available. She took the hint, so she gave him some space. She was going to talk to him again next Monday, because having lunch on her own or with anyone else is not as fun.

She likes having him close to her, even knowing he doesn’t reciprocate her feelings.

At least she can try to be his friend again. She knows how stupid that sounds. When someone is not interested in you, you should leave. It's no use to get so hung up on a guy—it's supposed to be that simple. 

And yet, there's still tiny hope in her mind that maybe he really _cares._ Perhaps his warm gaze was directed specifically to her. Perhaps she really made him blush when she teased him. Perhaps she was the only person at the university that could make him laugh. You know, small stuff like that.

But that's the thing with being in love, isn't it? Small things always triumph big gestures.

She sighs.

“Is... something wrong?”

Rey blinks, a realization dawning on her that she has been staring at him for… _shit, how long has it been?_

“Nope,” she frantically shakes her head. “I just—”

_Think, Jensen! Say something—anything! Play it cool!_

“I think, if every character in this show were a personality type, you would be the combination of Terry and Captain Holt,” she blurts out. _What? Why would you say that?!_

He looks at her, his hand paused from scribbling the paper. “Am I? Is it because... of all the muscles?”

“No. Maybe? But, you do work out a lot. You bake. You do calligraphy. You like scrabbles and sudoku, and if you feel like flexing your brain size to us mere mortals, you go to trivia nights. And you have that low, deep voice that makes...” she trails off, feeling embarrassed by her own words. _Oh god, this is so weird. So cringey. Please stop talking—_

She really should.

But since she’s never good at following her own advice, she keeps going, “But on the other hand, you look like—” She moves her hand in front of her face and gives him the most stern look she could muster. “— _t_ _his_ most of the time. And on top of that, sometimes you’re so anal and most people in our department think you're intimidating.”

Rey pauses, studying his face for any sign of discomfort. She waits for him to say something along the lines of _how can you remember that?_ or  _that's so weir_ d or _you're creeping me out,_ because, in retrospect, that would be a valid accusation. But instead, he looks amused. And if she isn't imagining it, his ears seem to turn pink as well.

He remains silent, however, although his eyes seem to search her face.

It's too late to undo the embarrassment, so she then playfully covers Yoda’s ears and whispers, “Not me, though. I know your secrets. I know _all_ about the Mamma Mia’s and the Pumpkin Spice Latte’s.”

He bursts out laughing. The kind of laugh that sounds almost like a bark, it startles Yoda. The dog immediately leaps off the couch with a snarl.

“Aw, he’s angry,” he says as Yoda trots to the other room.

Rey cranes her neck, “Is it okay to leave him alone like that?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

And it only takes less than two minutes later Ben is proven wrong.

* * *

 

Ben and Rey jump off the couch once they hear the sound of glass breaking, leaving his students' papers scattered on the floor. It’s loud, and Ben is sure that the little goblin must’ve destroyed one of Luke’s antiques.

They immediately run to the source of the noise to make sure Yoda doesn’t get hurt. But when they arrive in the hallway where Luke stores his art collections, they only find the poor vase on the floor, sans dog.

“Oh my god, where is he?” Rey asks.

“Yoda!” he calls out.

“Shh! You’re scaring him,” she warns.

Ben groans and then lowers his tone, “Come out, buddy. We won’t hurt you.”

There’s no trace of blood, so he is positively unhurt. But judging from the size of the vase, he could probably be in shock. After quickly disposing the scattered ceramic, they roam the hallway, calling him out but there’s still no response.

After a couple of rounds, they come back to the scene of the crime. Ben notices Rey keeps biting her nails—her usual habit when she's nervous. He approaches her and grabs her free hand, squeezing it.

“We’re going to find him,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

She nods, but doesn't look convinced. But then her eyes dart to one of Luke’s paintings. It’s a 90-inch Rothko, and it looks like it’s shifted a little bit to the left. There seems to be another source of light under it. Ben and Rey throws a look before he moves the painting further.

There’s a secret passage.

Ben frowns. _What in Hogwarts bull—_

“I think we should get in,” Rey says. “Yoda could be there.”

He nods and swings the painting open, letting Rey climb inside first before he follows suit.

There’s another hallway with shelves of books on each side of the wall. The lighting is dimmed red, not exactly suitable for reading.

“Did you know about any of this?” she asks, flipping open one of the books.

Ben shakes his head. “My family is… unique. I didn’t even know much about my grandfather until I turned 21. So, if my uncle has been hiding stuff like this, I wouldn’t have—”

Suddenly there’s a rustling sound, followed by a tiny bark. _Yoda!_

They find him lurking in the dark, not far from them. But once he catches them staring, he runs.

“Fuck!” Ben grits his teeth and chases him until they stop in front of a huge bookshelf sitting in the middle of two narrow hallways.

Yoda breathes heavily, looking almost satisfied with himself, before disappearing to the right. “Yoda!” Ben calls him.

“I’ll go to the other side!” Rey tells him, and he nods.

They finally corner him in front of a large door that Ben can only guess as Luke’s panic room—because what else could it be?

Yoda stares at them, still not looking scared or bothered at all, and Ben snaps.

“I’m gonna put you on a fucking leash, do you hear me?” he warns him. “Rey, get ready to catch him.”

Rey nods, “Got it.”

But right when they both jump toward Yoda, the dog bumps his butt against the door and uses it to piston himself forward. The door opens, and Rey yelps as she falls right into the room

“Rey!” Ben immediately grabs her hand, and in a split second, he realizes that Yoda buttheads his hip and pushes him inside. The last thing Ben sees is the smug face of the ugly demon as the heavy door is slammed closed.

Ben thinks he hears a beep of automatic lock, but he's too busy to make sure Rey is alright to care about it. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” she holds his arms. The room is pitch dark, before it gradually lights up. He then turns around and tries to open the door. It’s locked.

“Yoda!” he yells again. He can hear the sound of four paws trotting behind the door, and the noise is getting further and further away. _The bitch left!_

Ben immediately punches in a passcode. It doesn’t work.

“Fuck, I don’t know the passcode of Luke’s panic room,” he mutters. “I didn’t even know he owned a panic room. But it’s not surprising for a paranoid old fart—”

“Ben,” he feels Rey pull the sleeve of his shirt.

“It’s alright,” he says, punching the same passcode one more time although it gives him the exact same result. “I’ll get us out of here.”

“Ben,” she repeats, now pulling his forearm. Ben pauses and looks at her.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a bit panicked now that she looks at him like he just grew two heads.

She’s gesturing her head to the rest of the room. “I don’t think this is a panic room.”

He turns around and finally sees what she means. His jaw hangs open in an instant. He steps forward and see their surrounding for the first time, the same soft red lighting the room. He can hear Rey’s voice from behind him.

“Your uncle owns a sex dungeon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original prompts:
> 
> 1\. Rey and Ben are friends who are attracted to each other but don't think the other is.  
> 2\. Rey and Ben house sit for Luke and discover his sex dungeon.  
> 


	3. One Secret Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke 'Go Big or Go Home' Skywalker

Of all the weird secrets his family has, Luke having a literal sex dungeon is not something he would expect.

Ben never really pays attention to Luke’s private life—and their relationship did go sour when he was a teenager, so no, he couldn’t care less. He knows this, though: his uncle is unmarried, he rarely gets out of his house, except for travels and conferences, and he's also a pescatarian. He once decided to go all Walden for a year in his early thirties and only sent Ben’s parents letters—no phone calls, no e-mails, just letters. But neither of that information can explain… _this._

This is a dungeon. A literal sex dungeon, with a huge cage and swings and toys and a shelf full of Kama Sutra and genitalia-inspired ornamentation all over the place. Ben could’ve admired his uncle's dedication to the craft—well, he could've _almost_ —if he isn’t trapped in the room, and, you know, if Luke is not his uncle and his mother’s twin brother.

It also disturbs Ben a _little_ bit that his uncle—his scruffy-looking uncle who grows his own vegetables and proudly calls himself a ‘rich hermit’—is apparently some sort of a sex god. A sex god, who seems to be getting laid more than Ben ever will. Which reminds him of all Luke’s inappropriate jokes and unsolicited dating advice he gave him when Ben started to get interested in girls—his parents, much to his dismay, seems to be open about almost everything with his uncle.

One of the worst times was when Ben was working up the courage to ask the girl he liked out on the phone, Luke came up to him and said, “You know, with a dong like yours, you should be more confident in talking with girls, Big Ben.” The girl heard him and laughed, practically ruining Ben’s chance with her. Well, he was too embarrassed to talk to the girl after that, so maybe he ruined it for himself.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t know about this either,” Rey says.

Ben jolts a bit and turns to look at her. “You bet,” he replies as she walks past him, staring at the surrounding with wide eyes. He follows her, standing a couple of feet from the cage while she peeks inside and briefly touches the pole installed in the middle of it. 

“Do you think,” she looks up to the lighting on the cage’s ceiling. “He invites people over for this?”

Ben hides his hands inside his pockets, shifting uncomfortably. “It doesn’t seem like he’s using all of this by himself. So, yeah, I would think so.”

The image of Luke, his only maternal uncle, engaging in an orgy makes him feel like there's bile rising up his stomach. In fact, the image of his uncle anywhere near sexual objects makes him want to barf. With the size of this... dungeon and the professional touch in it, he wonders how many people his uncle has invited. And banged.

Ben grimaces.

Honestly, the surprise has already worn out of him. He probably won’t raise an eyebrow if he somehow finds out Luke has a secret child—or children—or if he has a connection with the mob or if he's a leader of a sex cult. Or maybe Luke is all that, who knows. What bothers him, though, is the fact that he’s here, not only by himself, but also with _her._

Rey Jensen herself, however, seems to be less disturbed and looks more… _enthralled?_

She has already moved on from the cage, and is now circling the intricate swing installed on the other side of the room. Ben swallows as she invites herself to _sit_ on it.

“Oi!” she yelps, her hands grips the restraint tightly like she’s scared of losing balance. Once she gets her footing, she starts to swing back and forth while  _giggling._ “I never knew a swing like this is kinda comfortable.”

“Rey, I don’t think—”

“Ben, come here!” she gestures him to come closer. Ben balls his fists, not knowing what to do. She waves his hand again. “Come on, you should try it.”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m—I’m good.”

“Okay,” she shrugs. She carefully lies back on the seat, and yelps again when it makes her body arch upward and her legs jerk open. Ben clenches his jaw and stares at the empty space above the swing as she makes a series of tiny surprised noises.

“Do you think how far someone could bend from this?” she asks, throwing her head all the way past the head rest while kicking her legs in the air for leverage.

Ben tugs his pant leg, cursing at the twitch of his cock. _Not now, you idiot!_

“I don’t know, I’ve never—” he looks away from her. What’s facing him instead is a wall full of miscellaneous gears that could be easily mistaken for torture devices by an unsuspecting audience. Given the context of the room and Ben’s _occasional_ shameful late night surfing history, he knows what they are—although, not all of them. Some of them are probably too sophisticated for his _relatively_ limited knowledge to figure out how to wear or which _part_ of human body they’re for.

He hears Rey jumps out of the swing, and goes to stand next to him. “Wow,” she mutters. “This is amazing.”

“You don’t find it… weird?” he asks.

She tilts her head to him, “Why is it weird?”

Ben shrugs, and then gestures his arm to their surrounding. “I mean, _this?_ That doesn’t bother you at all?”

She looks around, rubbing her petite nose like a rabbit. “Well, it is surprising. But also kinda hilarious, don’t you think?”

“Hilarious how?”

“It’s Luke’s,” she narrows her eyes, trying to hold herself from wheezing. “Luke Skywalker owns a sex dungeon. I don’t think I will get over it. He’s my _mentor.”_

“And my _uncle,”_ he adds. “I don’t even want to know about this. Or think about this. But _this_ is definitely going to haunt me forever.”

She snickers, lightly punching his bicep. “Come on, Benny Boy. Are you kinkshaming your uncle?”

“If it’s somebody else, I wouldn’t,” he replies, his lips tug upward after hearing her calling him like that. “But this is _my_ uncle. I think I have every right to kinkshame him.”

Her laugh gets even louder, her shoulders shaking adorably as her hand lies on top of her stomach. Ben sighs. Regardless of how frustrating this situation can be, there’s always fondness in his chest when he makes her laugh like that.

It's satisfying, and his little world would light up for a bit.

Earlier, he’s been worried if their time together would be filled with silence and polite greetings, but ever since they sat down for dinner, things have gotten better. Sure, he had to force himself to not act weird around her, and he certainly doesn’t want her to think of him as a bigger weirdo than she probably does after _the incident._

It doesn’t change the fact his heartbeat is pounding wildly when she’s close, though. It’s just that he doesn’t want to think about where their relationship is going by Monday—or by the time they get out of the room.

Neither does he want to think about how she hid her phone away from him earlier.

He could spend the entire time thinking about whom she was talking to—was it the ‘lucky’ guy? Does he even want to ask about this mysterious ‘lucky’ guy without sounding bitter? He _is_ bitter, though. Very bitter, actually. Like, ‘women won’t like men who act like him’ bitter. But thinking like that only makes him feel like shit, so he’s decided to ignore it every time it appears in his mind.

Being friends with Rey is a good thing, he convinces himself. _This is good enough._

But, of course, things would’ve been ten times easier if said woman is not touching every sex object she can get her hands on in the room while snorting like a twelve-year-old.

Ben can only stare as she lifts a huge, oddly-shaped neon-blue dildo—one of the many—from the cabinet and giggles while she shakes her hand, flapping the head of the engorged fake penis left and right. “Do you think this one is artisanal? Is it decorative or do people really, you know?” she wiggles her eyebrows lasciviously.

He clears his throat and fishes out his phone from his slack pocket. He definitely is not thinking about how small her fingers are compared to the object’s girth. He’s also definitely not thinking about whether she has one of her own and wondering how big it is compared to his own dick. And his mind is _definitely_ not going to the thought of her using it with her legs spread open like how she did with the swing and how much it would stretch her tight—

“I’m going to call the security,” he says as he turns around, marching to the door. He can hear Rey opening the drawers one by one while _humming_ like this is the most fun she's ever had. As he waits for the call to be picked up, Ben hears a buzzing sound that can only mean that she finds something in one of the drawers and is now turning it on and off and on again. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

_Don’t be a creep, don’t be a creep, don’t be—_

“Hello, this is Ben Solo calling from Luke Skywalker’s residence,” he says right after the other person answers.

“Good evening sir,” the receiver says. “How can I help you?”

Ben then explains the situation chronologically. He mentions about his uncle being away, and about the dog-sitting. And then about the incident with the vase and that was how he discovered the room. After a while, he asks if the company can send one of their people to fix the problem.

“My uncle won’t be back until Monday,” Ben says. “And I don’t think either of us want to be stuck in this room for two nights in a row.”

“Excuse me, sir,” the other person says. “The dog did what?”

Ben exhales sharply, feeling the burn that spreads across his cheeks. “The dog pushed us into the room and locked us in.”

“The dog pushed you into the room and locked you in?” she repeats.

“Yes, and I need to get out—”

The receiver laughs. Ben curses under his breath. “Look, I mean it. I know it’s hard to believe, but the dog really did that, and now my friend and I are stuck here.”

“The dog-sitter is your friend?” she asks.

Ben turns to see Rey and finds her still occupied with the drawers. She’s already left the dildo and the vibrator alone. But now she has a blindfold on her forehead, a leather collar with chains on her neck and shoulders, a riding crop in one hand, and something that resembles a strap-on in her other hand. Her attention seems to be glued at the latter object. And she looks _very_ fascinated.

He almost gets a heart attack from seeing her like that.

“Yes,” Ben replies in a clipped tone, locking his eyes back to the door like they could miraculously drill a hole through it. “We’re friends. And we want to get out of here now.”

 _Before I lose my mind,_ he inwardly adds.

“Alright,” the receiver says.

Ben sighs in relief. “Good.”

“We're going to contact Mr. Skywalker to ask for verification. If he approves it, our technician will be there tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank—what?” he snaps. “Are you kidding me?”

Seemingly aware of Ben’s distress, Rey is approaching him, still looking like she just visited a souvenir shop with all the equipment on her shoulders and hands. “Something wrong?” she asks, peeking over from his side.

Ben glances at her before shutting his eyes again. “What do you mean tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’m sorry, sir. But this is the weekend, and we can only provide limited manpower,” the security person says. “That’s the most we can do.”

“No offense, but isn’t your job to make sure that Skywalker’s house is safe?” Ben glares at the automatic lock. “If there were a burglary, would your men come tomorrow afternoon, too?”

“But this is not a burglary, sir,” she replies calmly. “We have the protocols and have been instructed to be in high alert if there is a danger. The situation you and your friend are in right now is not—”

“I don’t care. I need to get out of here. Now.”

“Sir,” the other person says. “Have you tried to contact your uncle? It seems to be less of a hassle if you do.”

Ben presses his lips into a thin line, before exhaling slowly. “You’re right,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

“What’s going on?” Rey asks as he ends the call.

He bites his inner cheek. “The security won’t come until tomorrow afternoon. That is, if Luke approves it.”

“Oh,” she nods.

“Do you have Luke’s contact?”

“I do,” she replies. “But it’s in my phone, which… I left on the couch when we freaked out about Yoda.”

Ben sighs, and then drops to the floor. He rests his back on the door and stretches his legs, staring at the ceiling. “I’m calling my mom, then.”

 

***

 

Calling his mother turns out to be not much a help—if anything, it adds despair to what he's already known from the security company. Luke is at a special retreat that requires him to be free of electronic devices.

His mother tells him she's heard about the Rothko room—which Ben argues is disrespectful to the painter—but she doesn't know the passcode.

“Although,” she says. “I think Luke left me a special note when he renewed his will last year. Maybe I can find something there.”

Ben is ecstatic about the prospect and immediately tells Rey about it. His mother hears him and asks if there's someone else with him in the room. “Yeah,” he says. “Remember when I told you about someone who dog-sits for Yoda earlier? It's actually Rey.”

Suddenly her mother says that she can't really hear him. Ben tries to speak loudly, and then loudly _and_ slowly, but she keeps saying there must be a disturbance. And then the call is mysteriously disconnected.

When he tries to call his mother again, it goes directly to her voicemail. And his text messages to his father aren't delivered either. A few minutes later, the wi-fi is also down. He almost throws his phone across the room if it's not for Rey who kindly puts a can of beer in front of him before sitting next to him on the floor.

“Dead end?” she asks, her slippered foot nudges Ben’s.

“Seems like it,” he shrugs as he cracks open the beer. “We’re going to be here for a while—where did you get this again?”

“There are two refrigerators in the pantry right over there,” she gestures to a door he didn't notice before. “One for your regular beverages, like water, energy drinks, alcohol. But the other one is just milk, for some reason. Luke also stocked tons of canned food and snacks, and even some dog food. Also, there's a bathroom over... there.”

“Huh,” Ben takes a swig. “So, this _is_ a panic room."

“But he makes it—” Rey puts down her beer and then does a jazz hands. “—fun! Like he always says.”

He snorts. “Yeah. He's like that.”

“Uh-uh.”

“So annoying.”

“Yup.”

“I thought you were going to defend him,” Ben lightly elbows her arm.

“Nope, not this time,” she shakes her head, the chains around her shoulders prattling a little. She takes them off, but keeps the collar and the blindfold. “Maybe earlier, but now we are stuck here. So, my opinion has changed.”

“There's a lot of food, though. You like food.”

“Do you think we can eat them all just to get back at him?”

He rubs her chin, pretending to think. “That's an idea.”

Then they stare at each other for a brief moment before busting out laughing. 

Later, they spend the time talking about nothing (mostly, talking shit about Rey’s boss, Hux, and arguing over the last season of Game of Thrones). Rey occasionally goes to the pantry for a few bags of chips, a pack of cookies (which Ben thinks is a bit dry—but it’s expected for a stored-bought one), and more beer. Meanwhile, Ben follows her around and, after a few cans of beer, he replaces every can she picks out from the fridge with water or anything with no alcohol in it.

Ben doesn’t think drinking too much beer in their situation is a good idea, but Rey laughs and says the situation _should_ give them the permission to get drunk. "What's the matter, Solo?" she asks. "You don't believe in your own self-control when you're drunk? Afraid you're going to get crazy with the pole?"

"Oh, I do," he lies. "It's _your_ self-control that I don't believe in. You could even eat the dog food when you're drunk, Jensen. And _then_ get crazy with the pole."

She eventually agrees with him—while still laughing—and picks her own drink. They end up doing a little bit of taste test of the wide array of beverages in the pantry, but neither of them want to get near Luke’s _other_ fridge—which Rey dubs the 'Milk Fridge'. It’s really packed with bottles and bottles of milk. It’s not the milk that bothers them; it’s the card on top of one of the bottles that says ‘Thank you, Daddy. The Sirens love you’ which made them laugh so hard before immediately slamming the door closed and backing off from it. They agree to never bring that up ever again, as per Ben’s request.

It isn’t until Rey yawns that he realizes it’s already two in the morning. He suggests they go to bed, but notices Rey freezes as soon as he suggests it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, and strangely her cheeks turn pink. “Yeah, we should go to bed.”

The realization then also dawns on him: there’s only one bed.

_Of course._

It’s a California king bed with four sturdy posts and red and black sheets. It looks like it’s untouched, so that part is a bit of a relief. But Rey’s shoulders still look tense, and she keeps biting her nails.

“You can use the bed,” he says. “I’ll sleep somewhere else.”

Her eyes widen, “Why?”

He runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I can sleep—”

“I don’t mind!” she cuts him off, shaking her head. “I mean, the bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“I know, Rey. But I don’t think—”

“Where do you want to sleep then?” She suddenly approaches him, and he immediately staggers back. “The cage? That place is cold as hell. The bathroom? Even worse. The bed is—I think, _objectively_ speaking _,_ the bed is…”

_Well, objectively speaking, I don’t think I can—_

“Ben,” she mutters. “I really don’t mind. Unless… you do?”

His breathing hitches in an instant. Her head is raised at him, a pair of big beautiful eyes that haunt his dreams boring into his. Her pink soft lips are parted and inviting, and the blush on her cheeks only adds some sort of innocence that makes him internally squirm. The blindfold is now falling on her neck, but it doesn’t properly cover the collar she’s been wearing since they arrived in the room. Its charm dangles as she moves, the light falling on top of it. _Kitten._ That’s what it says.

_Kitten._

Ben gulps _. Kitten. How perfect._

He immediately shakes the thought right before it develops into things he knows he'll regret later.

“Ben?” she asks again, her voice small.

_Kitten._

There’s a sudden coil in his stomach, and he thinks he prefers running away than facing her. It could be because of all the alcohol, but she looks at him as though she might cry if he rejects her. Such vulnerability only coaxes him more to follow her every whim. But again, being in a bed with her is not a good—

“O-okay,” he says finally, despite himself. 

She smiles at him, so sweet and beautiful. A smile that goes straight to his heart and turns his brain into an empty mush. He can’t think. He really can’t.

They lie down so far away from each other. Ben curls up on his side—almost to the edge of bed, his back facing hers. He turns off the light to make it easier to sleep, although sleep seems to be an activity his body wants to do the least at the moment.

He can’t shake the thought of Rey Jensen lying down next to him, in her adorable sweater and leg warmers, still wearing that stupid collar which he can’t bring himself to tell her to take it off. He can feel her shift in bed, feel the tug of the cover he refuses to be in because for some reason, he convinces himself it can add distance between them if he isn’t inside it as well.

He curses at himself every time he closes his eyes, the image of Rey in the saturated version of the room stains his mind. He thought he would be above that. He’s not some dirty old man who lusts on pretty girls just because he’s trapped in a sex dungeon. That would be too predictable—and disappointing!

He counts his breathing, trying to think about Luke’s face all over the room because it usually works to ruin his mood. _This is all Luke’s. Luke owns this. Look at that pole, imagine Luke gyrating—_

“Ben?” she calls, her voice almost down to a whisper. Ben grasps the fabric of the bed cover under him. “You asleep?”

“I’m about to,” he replies, almost sounding too raspy. “Can’t sleep, Rey?”

Suddenly, there’s a dip closer to his part of the mattress. Ben’s heart almost drops to his stomach. His eyes are wide open, searching the dark space in front of him.

Rey shifts a little bit more, and now it seems like she is sitting only a couple of feet behind him. Ben is too scared to look over his shoulder, opting for screwing his eyes shut instead. The thought of her sitting on her knees with a collar on her neck and her doe-eyes staring at him in the dark does not do him any good. _You fucking pervert—_

“Ben,” she says again. “Are we… are we…”

He waits for her to finish her sentence with a baited breath. His grasp on the bed cover tightens.

“Are we still friends?”

Ben’s hand twitches. Friends. _Are we still friends even when I’m in love with someone else, Ben? Can we stay friends and can you stop acting like a dick?_

“Yeah,” he replies calmly, ignoring the pang in his chest. “Of course, we’re still friends.”

_I don’t want to be—_

“Even after we get out of here?”

“Even after…,” he trails off. He then takes a deep breath and adds, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. But—but I think, we’ll be friends no matter what, Rey.”

It feels like hundreds of hot needles prickling his chest. He doesn’t want to say it, but isn’t that for the best? That they’re friends no matter what? That he can get his shit together and stop avoiding her?

The mattress dips once again as he hears a tiny ‘okay’ from her.

Ben clamps his jaw shut, feeling the pain spreading across his body. And maybe, he’s so deep in his own pain that he imagines hearing a soft sob on the other side of the bed.

The pain must’ve made him imagine that.

 

***

 

Ben awakes with the sound of fabric rustling. He smiles at the warmth he feels so close to his body. After a while, he starts to feel as though his right arm has fallen asleep for some reason, something heavy seems to lie down on it, but he doesn't mind.

He shifts a little, inhaling the calming scent of flowers from the delicate brush of hair touching his nose and lips. His fingers are caressing something that feels like skin under what it feels like a cotton fleece. It's nice. Warm. Soft. Perfect. And then—

Someone mewls.

_Mewls?_

Ben’s eyes shoot open.

The realization hits him like a bucket of cold water as he stares down at Rey’s sleeping form in front of him—no, she is sleeping _on_ him. She has the blindfold on and her mouth parts a little. His body turns stiff in an instant.

She then sleepily nuzzles to his chest, a light snore that sounds almost like a purr comes out of her. Her arm is thrown over his waist, her fingers grasping the back of his shirt. Their legs, for some reason, are tangled together. Her thigh is sandwiched between his. And he would never mistake the sensation of morning wood— _his_ morning wood protruding against his pants and her stomach.

He swallows thickly. _Must. Not. Wake. Her._

Ben shifts a little and lifts his arm from her lithe body. He puts his hand on her shoulder, slowly pushing her away from him. Rey mewls again, tightening the grasp on his shirt. She pushes her body closer to him, unconsciously grinding herself to his body. He immediately holds his breath as the friction between them only makes it harder for him.

He bites his lower lip so forcefully that he thinks he might break skin. Slowly, he tries to push her again. This time, Rey is the one who releases her grip. She throws her arm to the other side, spreading herself on the mattress like a starfish. Her mouth is wide open, and the snoring sound can be heard a bit louder now.

Ben takes his chance and jumps out of bed. He turns around and tiptoes to the bathroom as quickly as he can.

He needs a shower.

An ice-fucking-cold shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [ swing](https://www.extremerestraints.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/thumbnail/640x/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/x/r/xr_ae760dcloseup.jpg).  
>  
> 
> My browsing history has been interesting lately lol.  
> 


	4. Two Miserable Companions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy.  
> This is a long chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: everything in the dungeon is sanitized. Luke cleans it regularly. All of it.  
> Also, this is not a high literature. Please don't fact check me lol.

 

It was the best sleep Rey has ever had in weeks.

And yet, soon after that the worst feelings wash over her, reminding her where she is—and what happened last night. What he _said_ to her and her heart broke again.

The sleep shouldn't have felt that good, but it did anyway. Maybe it's the mattress, but there's also the warmth that felt just right. It felt like she was embraced, _engulfed_ —but maybe it was just part of the luxury the bed provides. She might need to ask Luke where to shop the mattress later.

But before that, there's one particular person that she has to face. And said person apparently has left the bed, leaving an empty space and a slightly crumpled sheet—and now, she can hear the sound of shower. _So there he is._

Rey sits up and then scoots to the edge of the bed. Her body feels rested—she's definitely going to ask Luke about the mattress—but everything else... well, it's another matter altogether.

She walks towards the standing mirror, and then stops to stare at herself. Her hair is in disarray, but it doesn't look that bad. Her eyes are a bit swollen, but she knew that would happen when she took her third bag of chips last night—and the beer, which Ben later convinced her to ditch. She'd like to be drunk, but he didn't. She understood the implication, and again: he said it himself.

She stares at the collar on her neck. _Kitten._ It was supposed to be a joke—wasn’t it?

It was supposed to be an attempt to make light of the situation because as much as she found it amusing that they were being pushed (and tricked?) by Yoda into a sex dungeon, the other things aren't as fun. And when she's nervous, she tends to improvise.

Okay, she might’ve wanted to tease, maybe a bit.

But the way his eyes steeled at her—at the collar on her neck—made her feel like it was just wrong. It was almost like he wanted to rip it off of her. He avoided looking at her, and they were in the same bed, and then he said...

She doesn't want to think about it. Not now. He could be out of shower in a minute, and she has to be ready to see him again. They're still going to be trapped in the room for hours, and she won't know what to do.

She takes off the collar, and puts it on top of the cabinet. She can deal with it—with him. She _has to._

When Ben comes out of the shower, Rey is in the middle of arranging Luke’s dildos in a triangular shape on the floor. She can hear his footsteps approaching and pausing a few feet from her.

“What... are you doing?” he asks.

Even knowing that he's coming, she still jolts a bit when she hears him. His voice, she finds, sounds _deeper_ in the morning. She can't help wondering how he’d sound like when he just wakes up. How he’d sound like if he calls her name—

“What does it look like?” she says nonchalantly, replacing one dildo with another one. 

She hears him take a deep breath and then chuckles, “I don’t know. Seance?”

“What am I summoning then?” She rolls her eyes, and then raises her head at him—big mistake, because now she _sees_ him. Really sees him and his stupid wet hair and his black undershirt that shows off his broad shoulders and muscles and the towel in his hand that looks so small and—, “The ph-phallic… gods?”

“I don’t think 'gods' can be summoned whenever you please,” he smiles—that all dimpled smile of his that makes her heart skip a beat, and then he crouches down. She notices the droplets of water hanging on his fringes, some tendrils of hair sticking on his neck and face. The post-shower flush on his cheeks makes him look much younger—and glowing. He places the towel on his shoulders and wipes his neck with it, “Probably it’ll be just spirits who live here—or ghouls.”

“Yeah, so they can tell us the passcode and then we can get out of here,” she narrows her eyes and then looks at her arrangement again. “It’s for bowling. They’re the right size for a duckpin—,” she pauses, and then raises a finger. “Wait, no. It’s a _dickpin_ bowling.”

“You didn’t just say that.”

“I just did,” she says. “Wanna play?”

When Rey turns to him again, he’s already looking at her like he’s just caught off guard. He blinks, “Hm?”

She sighs and takes a dildo. “Bowling? With these?" She swings it in front of him playfully, his eyes are following her hand's movement. "If we’re going to be stuck here for an unforeseeable future, might as well make it fun. I mean, there’s a lot of stuff in here that we can play—”

She shuts her mouth immediately, realizing the connotation of her words. _Shit, Rey. You’re supposed to make light of the situation, not sexually harass him!_

His eyes are still zeroed on the dildo in her hand, the head of it flopping limply—totally not excited to see anyone in that room.

“Without—” she jerks it back—and it wobbles—before placing it in the formation on the carpeted floor, almost knocking its neighbors. “Without making it sexual, _you pervert!”_

She says that as a joke, but it seems Ben doesn’t think that way. He looks flustered, that she feels bad about it. She doesn’t mean him as a pervert, of course. If anything, it’s her. She’s the pervert, because if things really had gone her way, last night would’ve turned out a _bit_ differently.

“I’m kidding!” she laughs—although, in honesty, she wants to cry. Ben chuckles but it sounds forced and doesn’t help with the crappiness Rey’s feeling. “Never mind,” she then gets to her feet. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Ben follows her, standing up to his full height that she staggers back a little bit. “No, Rey. If you want to play—”

“No, no. It’s alright,” she waves her hand, ignoring the distinct—almost sensual—flowery scent of soap and shampoo from him forcing its way to her lungs. “It’s just a dumb game and I was bored. Now I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Oh,” his shoulders drop. “Okay.”

Rey bites her lower lip and looks away from him. “Yeah, you just… showered. Was it… good?”

_Good question, Jensen. Perfect._

“I mean, th-the water heater—”

“I suppose so,” he replies. “Good, I mean. I don’t know.”

She raises an eyebrow, “You don’t know?”

“I don’t—” he clears his throat while scratching the back of his ear. “I took—I didn’t use the hot water. I—uh—I like it cold. Every morning, yup. Cold. Shower. It’s good. For health, I mean.”

“Whoa.” She slowly claps while muttering, “You’re braver than the Marines.”

Ben tilts his head, smiling sheepishly as his hand runs on his damp hair. She clears her throat and then points at the bathroom, “I better—you know.”

He moves away. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. I’m... going to make us breakfast."

“Oh,” she blinks. “Thanks.”

“Anything you want to eat?” he asks.

_You?—Jensen, shut up!_

“Anything is good,” she says as she walks backward to the bathroom. “I trust your cooking skill.” She then adds, “Chef.”

The last thing she sees before she goes inside is Ben’s blushing face.

 

***

 

She’s not proud of it. But it did happen.

After wallowing in self-pity for once again falling for the one person she’s not supposed to, her lizard brain decided to have a mind on its own. A _horny, dirty_ mind.

It turns out Ben left his shirt in the bathroom—he probably forgot to take it with him, but whatever, it doesn’t help with her situation since her mind is already in the gutter. The shirt is only a trigger, if anything.

The smarter part of her brain, you know, the one that actually got her straight-A’s most of her life, has already warned her about Ben’s feelings for her. _He’s not interested, stop it._ But the lizard brain is the worst. It’s weak and again, very horny.

So, she _might’ve_ touched herself for a bit in the shower. And she _might’ve_ taken said shirt with her while her fingers deep inside her cunt, she _might’ve_ imagined the filthiest version of the shirt’s owner being there with her—with his wet hair and big hands and deep morning voice. And the stupid dildos she arranged really do help to make her imagination worse—or better, and then the smell of the body wash—the same body wash she’s using now really makes it difficult for her to just not do _that._

And she _might’ve_ also whispered his name as she came— _but,_ in her defense, it was like a goodbye kind of thing.

Yes, goodbye, _of course._ Because, after they get out of this room, she’ll get over him—right? So, what if she buried her face in his shirt while quietly moaning his name like a perverted weirdo?

She knows she should’ve _maybe_ felt bad about it, but Ben doesn’t know that. He doesn’t have to know. It’s a secret, like a raging crush she still shamelessly has and can't get over, and her other... fantasy.

When she comes out of the shower, she finds him standing between the bathroom door and the bed, probably, to tell her about the breakfast. But he only stares at her and says nothing, just being there like a misplaced refrigerator, looking somehow befuddled with his hands tucked inside his pant pockets.

And then he points to the pantry and his mouth opens like he’s thinking hard about something, his eyes blinking. “The food—I, uh, food?”

He made her eggless waffles and bacon. He even made the bacon crispy just like how she always likes it. And everything tastes so good that she’s almost guilty-mad at him.

He doesn’t seem to care much about his own meal, though, only watching her as she inhales her breakfast. She figures he wants a validation about how good his cooking is, so that’s all she’s been moaning about. And that seems to be the case because then he starts to dig in and doesn’t look at her until they’re finished.

Rey is collecting the paper plates when she notices him staring again. She raises her eyebrows at him, and he immediately breaks eye contact. _Strange._

Sometimes she thinks his eyes are following her around but he remains silent. Whenever she tries to start a conversation with him, he almost always looks jumpy before retreating to silence. After a while, she starts to feel self-conscious under his stare, so she goes and hides in the bathroom for a while to collect herself. When she's back, she’s thinking of a few jokes she can crack because that’s what’s friends do, right? She jokes around with Finn and Rose and Kaydel, she can joke around with Ben. Her _friend._

“Do you think,” she starts, sitting at the edge of the bed while Ben’s opening one of the cabinet’s drawers, looking for a phone charger. “How long does it take before we want to murder each other?”

He turns to look at her, and then scratches the bridge of his nose. “That… went dark real fast.”

“Hypothetically,” she taps the empty space next to her, gesturing him to sit down— _casually,_ because that’s what friends do. Her other friends sit on her bed all the time just to talk and eat snacks and watch Netflix—whatever. Ben’s shoulders tense for a brief moment, but then he comes closer and awkwardly perches on the bed. “You and me. Isolated chamber. Torture devices—”

“I don’t think these—”

“Anything can be a torture device if you try hard enough,” she wags a finger at him. _And anything can be a pleasure device if you try hard enough,_ she adds inwardly while once again disappointed in herself. “So,” she crosses her legs. “How long will it take for you to hate me enough to want to kill me if we get stuck here for days and weeks no end?”

His mouth parts a little bit.

“I don’t think I would,” he murmurs, and his eyes look one shade darker now that they’re sitting a bit closer. And he looks like he’s _studying_ her, like her question could mean something else. “I don’t... hate you. I don’t think I ever will.”

Rey shifts a little, trying to hide the racing of her heartbeat that must've been shown on her face. _It means nothing,_ she tells herself. _He’s an... intense guy. That's just his usual expression._

“You don’t know that,” she laughs while lightly pushing him to no avail, and he’s still staring. “We could both descend into madness. Have you seen one of those social experiments where people being locked up in a confined space for days? That could happen to us.”

“What would you do then?” he asks, one corner of his lips tugs upward. “Would you murder me if that happens?”

“Does it guarantee my survival?” she pulls the hemline of her leggings to cover her ankles, boring her eyes at the seam as her fingers fiddle with it. “Like, do we still have the canned food by then? You’re a big guy. Lots of calories.”

He snorts, “Harsh.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she raises her head at him. “When the time comes, wouldn’t you want to... eat… me?”

Rey grimaces at her own words. He raises an eyebrow, half amused.

“I mean—” she opens her mouth, gazing down to one spot on the carpet like she could burn a hole in it. “—uh, we need food to survive, right? I’m not saying that cannibalism is the _only_ way. But like, according to history, a lot of people, the pirates for example, resorted to eat their—”

“Rey,” he says, his voice low and sonorous that that alone instantly makes her shut up and look at him again. But she does it _so_ _casually,_ because this is definitely not weird. A casual conversation with a casual friend. A casual cannibal anecdote and a casual… whatnot.

But there’s nothing casual with how Ben looks at her.

She could’ve sworn the lighting is at fault for making his eyes look darker, maybe _almost_ predatory—but that’s not Ben, right? The lighting is definitely the culprit here. _Red is a bit clich_ _é,_ _Luke, don’t you think?_

Her breathing hitches as he shifts closer—not too close, but enough to make her feel his presence again— _so overwhelming._ She can smell the same scent like the body wash she’s used, and faintly, the same scent like the shirt she held onto dear life earlier. And suddenly she feels how unfair this is.

How unfair that even after he rejected her, he still has the same effects on her.

Rey suddenly feels the rise of anger within her. Something that can’t be explained because it’s too frustrating. So, instead, she gets to her feet and takes a step away from the bed.

“I think,” she says, balling her fists behind her back. “There must be a way to get out of here now.”

He straightens his torso, but his eyes are still roaming over her face. “The door is locked.”

“I know, but there must be a way.” She looks around, mostly to avoid him because this starts getting too much. He said what he said last night, and why would he look at her like that now? She gestures her head to the ceiling, “There. An air vent.”

He sighs, but then looks at the ventilation. “That looks small.”

“I think I can fit in there,” she replies. “I can get out of the room and then finds a way to get help and then I can get you out. I can even feed Yoda while at it.”

She thinks he’d object that, maybe tell her how dangerous it is, or how would she get there? He’s always worried, now that she thinks of it. It doesn’t mean anything, but sometimes he does… worry about mundane things—about her asshole boss’ treatment of her, about her tendency to skip breakfast, about her stupid little problems—it doesn’t mean anything, though. It doesn’t. _If anything, it’s just friendly concern. Right?_

But instead, he says, “Do you want me to lift you up?”

“Huh?”

He gestures his head towards the ventilation, his hands resting on his knees. “So that you can reach it?”

Rey swallows, her throat feels dry now. “If... you don't mind?”

And he doesn't. He’s lifting her up like she weighs nothing. His bear-pawed hands grip her waist, and then his arms circle around it as she tries to reach the ceiling.

He feels like a mountain, she thinks. Sturdy, unwavering mountain. Like, she could jump on him in a surprise attack and he would still catch her easily. He could carry her around like a doll, throwing her in the air to catch her again, swinging her around, placing her on his lap—

“Can you—” she tries to move a bit, but his hold is too strong that she can only wiggle like fucking fish. Helpless, and, strangely, she doesn’t mind. “Can you lift me higher? I can’t—”

Ben removes his hold on her waist and puts his arms around her lower thighs. She’s surprised with the sudden movement, so she almost falls forward, only using his shoulder and a grip on his hair for purchase. “Sorry,” she yelps as he hisses in pain.

“It’s okay,” he replies, his voice a bit muffled. “Can you reach it now?”

She looks down and finds him looking the other way. His temple is so close to her crotch and she feels embarrassed. “Yeah,” she says, diverting her attention to the ventilation. “I think I can—oh, no.”

She’s about to tell him that the vent is permanently planted and a screwdriver won't do it when she hears him. “What’s wrong?”

Rey feels his head suddenly shifts under her, his hair and then his nose moving against her thighs—and then a little bit higher as he looks up, and she feels a tingle that makes her involuntarily squeeze her legs together. That apparently also surprises him, because he jerks his body and his hold weakens. And Rey—

“Ben!” she cries, and suddenly her knee is on his shoulder. Her fingers are clawing at the air vent while her other hand is once again on his hair. And that action successfully creates another disaster: she has unknowingly pushes his _whole_ face to her crotch and it takes her a while to realize that. And when she does, she is utterly _mortified._

Especially, since he’s not moving. Especially, since he probably can’t breath. Especially, since she’s trapping his face between her legs against his will. _Fuck._  

But then, she feels his sturdy hands move again. This time, they are on her hips, and suddenly her body is lifted up—and then down. And then Rey finds her legs are on his waist and her arms on his shoulders, his hands a shy away from her rear—and their faces are on the level with each other.

They’re quiet for a while. Maybe longer than a while. Their eyes are locked—both lips parted and shoulders heaving. For the first time ever, they’re only one breath away.

And then, she can feel him—his— _it._ She can _feel_ it.

It’s prodding against her ass, and it’s… big, like the rest of him. She swallows thickly and shifts a little. In an instant, he screws his eyes shut and his jaw hardens, a tinge of pink starting to appear on his ears and cheeks.

“Ben,” she mutters, putting her hand on his chest. “I think—”

He seems to take her action as a sign to let her go, because that’s what he does. She’s a bit disappointed—and for the first time, the disappointment is not directed to herself.

Once her feet touch the ground, he turns around and walks away.

“Ben, wait!”

He pauses, but still not looking at her. “I’ll get us something to drink,” he says before disappearing in the pantry.

Rey knows better than following him. She is pacing around, biting her nails in panic. But then she decides to sit down on the swing, thinking it can soothe her with a little movement. Ben is back a long minute later with a bottle of water, dripping in perspiration, for the each of them. He hands her the bottle without looking at her, and she accepts it. Her heart dies a little bit.

He’s sitting against the door, just like last night—away from her. But this time, Rey doesn’t have the guts to follow and sit next to him. Instead, she opens her bottle and drinks it. Ben doesn’t. He’s just holding it and staring at the floor.

After a long silence, she sighs and throws her back to the swing, kicking her legs so it sways as she stares at the ceiling.

It does feel like a hammock—if she ignores the restraints hooked on each end of the web, and how it doesn't accommodate her legs— _but it’s fiiine._ Maybe tonight she’ll sleep here instead. Whatever it was that just happened, she can’t imagine herself being in the same bed with him.

Not when he avoids her again like this.

She closes her eyes, wishing herself to fall asleep. She wishes to not be here anymore. Maybe once she awakes, everything is okay again.

As she's forcing herself to sleep, she feels as though a big shadow eclipses the lighting above. She opens her eyes and finds Ben looming over the swing. She immediately sits up, noticing the empty, crushed bottle in his hand, before lifting her gaze to his face.

He’s looking down at her, his jaw clenched and his chest expanding with every intake of his breath.

Suddenly, she feels so small before him.

“Ben,” she says. The muscle under his eye twitches and he crushes the bottle again before letting it sadly drop to the floor. He shuts his eyes.

She shifts closer to him, “Ben, that was—”

“I heard you.”

Rey blinks, feeling her heart drop to her stomach. “What?”

“Earlier,” he heaves, slowly opening his eyes. “I heard you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“In the bathroom,” he grits his teeth—like he’s trying to suppress an unseen turmoil within him. “I was about to ask you to hand me my shirt. But then I _heard_ you.”

“Ben…” she balls her fists on her lap. What is she going to say? _It’s not like what you think it is?_

_...but it is._

He puts his hands on the chains, and the swing shakes with her. She jerks away from him, but can only move a little as his large build is caging her. She feels like prey, although she doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He looks confused and livid at the same time. Like it’s _painful._

“I don’t understand,” he mutters. “After everything you told me, why did you… call my name?”

Rey feels an embarrassment creeping through her face. _Yes, why, Rey? After I so clearly said that we’re just friends? After I made a point by avoiding you for days? Can't you stop doing that to me? Can’t you take no for an answer?_

“Ben,” she says, and the swing rattles again like her calling his name _yet again_ prompts his grip to tighten. “I can explain.”

Ben furrows his brow, his gaze is hot on her. She feels like he could pull the swing off of the ceiling if he wants to.

His voice drops. “Then. Explain.”

There’s a wave of electricity rushing through her when she hears that. She shouldn't feel that way, but her body seems to betray her need of composure. She should be scared, even. Because what if she’s hurt him? What if he's sick of her unwanted infatuation? What if he's sick of _her?_

But then, she remembers everything he's made her feel. She thinks of the stolen moments she felt his gaze on her when he thought she wouldn't notice. She thinks of his little attention to details, like how he noticed when she just trimmed her hair, how he chuckled at her Adventure Time keychain every time he saw it, how he kept track of her research even though he's not her boss or mentor, how he patiently listened to her when she ranted about her loud neighbor—or her cantankerous boss, how he asked for her permission before wiping a small drop of whipped cream from her cold brew off her lips, how he spent his afternoons with her even though they both know he could be somewhere else.

And she thinks of how he made her feel, how after that rejection she has to rethink _everything_ she thought was mutual attraction and blame it on her misinterpretation. But how could their every interaction be misinterpreted?

She knows she's not good with that kind of thing, but surely, she's not dumb?

Rey feels it then: she's hurt. Her own hurt that is not his to say. Because how dare he be surprised _—disgusted_ even—for her feelings for him and refuse to address it right away to make it stop before it's too late. Because, although she can't make him reciprocate her feelings, he still has no right to look at her the way he does. He has no right to care, has no right to tell her how to feel. So, how dare he—

“I'm not sorry,” she tilts her chin up. His eyes go wide, and the swing moves a little.

She continues, “I’m not sorry for what I've done. I'm not sorry for how I feel.”

“Rey,” he lets go the swing like it burns. “I don't need you to apologize. I just want an explanation—”

“Yes, I did call your name,” she looks away, her cheeks burning. “It wasn't my proudest moment, but it did happen. But you're not supposed to know that. You're not supposed to hear that.” She takes a deep breath, “Just like you weren't supposed to hear that phone call I did.”

He's quiet for a moment. And his voice turns so soft as he speaks, “Would it be better if I didn't hear it?”

“I was—” Rey pauses, a lump caught in her throat. “I was going to tell you about it. I didn’t want you to know that way. But—but your reaction that day and days after that showed me what I needed to know. So, in a way, I'm glad that you found out.” She turns her head to him again, and her stomach clenches.

He looks… _hurt?_

Ben takes a step back, and then his chin drops to his chest. “Was it that terrible? Your opinion of me… has it always been like that?”

She starts to feel her eyes sting. She hates him. How dare he look vulnerable like this? She _hates_ him.

“My feelings,” she says, her voice starting to waver, “have nothing to do with you, Ben. They're mine. And let me deal with them myself.”

Ben raises his head to her, and she can see him. How his hair falls down on his face and his cheeks are flushed, his lips trembling and he looks as if he's about to cry and she's confused.

She doesn't know what to make of that. Who's hurting who? Why does it feel like she just rips his heart open when it's hers that's supposed to break this moment?

“Then,” he speaks quietly. “Why did you call my name?”

Rey raises her eyebrows, another wave of confusion flooding in.

“Why, Rey, I—” he sighs in resignation. “I don’t get it. When I heard you, my mind went… I couldn't… There's no way I wouldn't think of it. And this morning I woke up with you… _sleeping_ on me. And after that I…"

Now her eyebrows really shoot up to her forehead. She was? So, she was really embraced quite _literally?_

He smiles wryly—almost like he's defeated. “You have no idea how much you have affected me.”

A warm tear rolls down her cheek and she doesn't know what to feel anymore. His words sound like a confession than an accusation, but—why? This is too confusing, and she shouldn't feel like the wind gets knocked out of her lungs. And yet...

“Ben, I—”

“I don’t think I can see you anymore, Rey.” He wipes his face with one hand, “I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

“Why?”

He frowns, repeating her in disbelief. _“Why?”_

She knows he's right. She just… doesn’t know if she wants that. But he's right. If she can't change how she feels towards him—and she knows, she can't, then…

“I can't be around you,” he mutters. “It's too much, Rey. It’s… _obvious._ I can't pretend that we’re nothing—”

“It's not nothing,” she jumps out of the swing. “It's never nothing. You're not… nothing. Not to me.”

His eyes go wide for a brief moment. But then he shakes his head and scoffs, “Is that why you called my name, when you already have _him?”_

She staggers back, “What?”

“Am I just a distraction, then?” he asks, running his hand on his hair. “Because you're _stuck_ here with _me,_ instead of with… that guy?”

She blinks. “What... guy?”

Now it's his turn to look puzzled—and uncertain. “That guy you’re… in love with?”

She furrows her brow, trying to give herself a moment to think. She feels like there's something missing in this conversation.

“What.... are you even talking about?”

They’re staring at each other. Her mind goes blank as silence falls between them, bewildered faces mirror each other.

Then, the realization starts to hit her—although it doesn't hit her soon enough. It's approaching slowly, like a sloth in the middle of the road trying to get to the other side while she’s behind the wheel.

“Ben,” she raises her hand, exhaling sharply. “That afternoon—the phone call, how much did you hear? Did you hear everything?”

His face steels again. He crosses his arms and looks away. “I heard enough,” he sulks.

Rey blinks. Now it clicks. It _clicks._

She's watching him, feeling her heart bloom and the warmth slowly spreading throughout her body. _That can't be true,_ she thinks. The man in front of him remains oblivious on the matter, and Rey can't hide her grin. _But this is Ben,_ she thinks again. _Ben would._

 _He definitely would._  

“Well," she says. "Obviously you didn't, you idiot.”

Ben jerks her head to her, “Excuse me?”

“No, you didn’t hear enough,” she advances to him and then her fingers clutch the front of his undershirt. He drops his arms and leans back, but she pulls him closer. His eyes widen, riddled with confusion.

His mouth is open but there's nothing coming out of it.

“Because if you did,” she says. “Then you know who I was talking about and you—no, _we_ wouldn't have to dance around like this. Because if you did, we wouldn’t have hurt ourselves like this. Because if you did, we'd probably be kissing—”

And suddenly, he does.

His lips are pressed on to hers. It's powerful—how he kisses her. It's like her mouth is a destination he’s been longing to reach. Maybe that's the case for her, too. Her fingers find their way in his soft hair, and he leans down, demanding more of her. And she feels like her heart is bursting. But then—

“Sorry,” he says as he withdraws quickly. His soft, plush lips are bruised so prettily. He breathes heavily as he searches her face. “I should’ve—I should've asked first,” he stammers. “I just assumed, because you said if I heard everything then we—I—Rey, is it… _me?"_ His Adam's apple bobs, "The person you—I need a confirmation, because right now my mind is racing and I can’t hold myself—”

She cups his face and kisses him again. “Yes,” she whispers. “It’s you. It's always you.”

He growls against her mouth then, and he kisses her so thoroughly. It's possessive, how his hands captures the back of her head and the junction between her neck and shoulder—and how he sucks and nips on her lips, her tongue, and everything feels so hot and heavy.

She has to arch upward as he keeps hunching down. He then moves one hand to her waist, and he starts walking her backward, still devouring her until she feels dizzy.

Rey feels a nudge at her ass and then suddenly he pushes her down, and she realizes where they are. She feels the swing starts to bounce to accommodate her weight and part of his. She circles her arms on his shoulders and raises her legs, letting him lift one of her thighs to his waist while he's chasing her down with his knee sitting between her legs, planting her deep in the swing which may or may not be able to hold their combined mass together. She doesn't care.

“Rey,” he murmured against her neck, planting more kisses there—sucking her skin and she can't help but moan loudly. “You’ve put me in hell for the past few days. I think I'm going to lose my mind.”

She bucks her hips to him, feeling him against her core, and he groans, lightly biting her jaw. “Well,” she says breathlessly. “It's not my fault if you jumped to conclusions without asking me first.”

Ben chuckles against her skin. “Lesson learned.”

His hand slowly drifts down along the torso of her sweater like he’s trying to make sense of her body. He sucks his breath as his hand disappears underneath her clothing, snaking her stomach and her bra. “Although,” he says as he pulls his face back, his expression playful—and yet a bit dangerous. “I don’t think I’m the only one who needs a lesson here.”

She breathes heavily as he stares down at her, eyes turn few shades darker that she shudders. She pulls his t-shirt and grinds against him—so needy, as he takes a glance at where their clothed bodies meet. She needs more of him. _All of him._

“Ben, please…”

“How long?” he caresses her cheek with his free hand as he whispers, ignoring her plea. He sounds so calm and soothing and it shouldn’t sound so erotic. “Tell me how long you have been thinking of me?”

She mewls and shuts her eyes, needing more friction between them. She wraps both of her legs to his hips now, shamelessly grinding herself against his arousal until he grabs the chain above her head and groans. And then she feels his touch again—his thumb on her nipple, his palm squeezing her breast until she opens her eyes.

“Answer me,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He sounds so soft-spoken, so warm, and yet the way he looks at her…

She whimpers, “Since… I don’t know.”

His expression shifts. He gives her another squeeze, and then he reaches her back and flicks her bra open. “You don’t know?” he repeats, his voice is laden with amusement. He pulls her sweater along with her unfastened bra up her armpits. The cold air immediately hits her bare torso and makes her shudder.

He’s gawking at her naked chest now, his large hand splayed between her breasts and then down to her stomach, almost covering its entirety. She can hear him under his breath muttering _fuck, you’re perfect,_ while she's writhing underneath him. He flicks his gaze back to her face, and caresses her cheek like she’s a delicate doll. His thumb then touches her lips and she can’t help but gives it a lick and sucks. She releases it with a pop and he shivers.

Feeling bold, she sits up and reaches for the hemline of his t-shirt without breaking eye contact. But he grabs her wrists and pushes her back to the swing that it bounces with her. Her hands are being held above her, hanging at the edge of the swing. She eyes the hand restraints above her head and her stomach coils in excitement.

But he doesn't move, just watching her as she helplessly wiggles her wrists, like he's a cat and she's his toy. Rey laughs in spite of herself. He shakes his head, almost breaking into a smile, and tightens his hold on her, enough to give her a warning but not to cause pain. She folds her leg and then rubs her bare foot to his thighs, taunting him. He sucks in breath when she reaches the outline of his arousal before he snaps out of it and catches her ankle, throwing it to the side with abandon.

He smirks, “You’re still not answering my question.”

“Ben,” she whines. “I really… I don’t… Please... I don't know.”

With his eyes turning almost black, there’s no more softness in his voice. If anything, there’s a hint of mockery in his words. “Try. Harder.”

“I—,” she bites her lower lip while he’s leaning down, pushing her sweater a little higher to kiss her sternum, and then her small cleavage. She almost loses it when he slowly licks her nipples in a circle motion, and she instantly feels the impact of it in between her legs. Noticing her body jerking in pleasure, he plants an open mouthed kiss on her breast, still holding her wrists with one hand. The warm of his saliva on her skin and the wet sound of his mouth feel so _so_ agonizingly good. Rey has to hold herself together to give him an answer. “Since… the first time I saw you. I think.”

He pauses, and then raises his head, his inky black hair covering part of his eyes. “In that conference?”

She nods, and then shakes her head. “Maybe before... that, too? I’ve seen your f-face and read your works before… the conference.”

Ben narrows his eyes at her, and she starts to worry that he finds her weird—like a stalker weird. That he thinks she is just some silly girl who has a crush on someone she doesn’t know. She has always been fascinated by him since she read his works during her mentorship with Luke. But it wasn’t until she really met him that everything fell into place.

The silence stretches a bit too long. Rey wonders if she just ruined everything. “I mean," she breathes. His gaze flicks for a moment to the rise and fall of her breasts. "I’m not a stalker—”

“That long ago?” he sounds so intrigued, almost too pleased, and she can feel her cheeks hot again—and her core _hotter._ There’s an obvious glint in his eyes, and his lips tug upward. _He likes it,_ she thinks. And for some reason, she also thinks: _fuck._

Now he knows. Now he knows how _desperately_ she wants him.

“Ben,” she lets out another whimper. “Please…”

She doesn’t know what she begs for. _Please touch me? Please do anything—everything—_

“You’ve been hiding that from me, haven’t you?” he leans down to her ear, a gush of warm breath tickling her skin and she shuts her eyes. His hand travels down and down—his touch is hot, she's almost sure it's going to burn her skin. “You’ve never wanted us to be friends, then?”

She looks at him again and shakes her head. “No?” he teases, shaking his head like her. “And yet—” His hand pauses right on her hip, giving it a squeeze. “You made me think that you did? You made me think… that I can’t _have_ you?”

Rey squirms at his words.

“I didn't—I didn’t mean it. I thought… I thought—” she swallows. “I thought that’s what _you_ wanted. To be friends, and I—”

He laughs then, so dark and low it vibrates against her chest and every nerve in her body.

“I only want _you,_ sweetheart.” His hand moves to her inner thigh, and she has to bite back a moan. “I thought you didn’t want me,” he reaches the damp spot between her legs. “When all I wanted is— _fuck_ ,” he groans as he traces her covered slit.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he kisses her cheek, and then her neck, and then her mouth. “Positively dripping. Is it always like this when you think of me?”

She nods.

“Even this morning?” he whispers, still stroking her so slowly. “When you _touched_ yourself and called out _my_ name?”

She nods eagerly. “Yes. Yes, please, Ben. I want—”

“Shh,” he speaks against her lips. “You still need to learn your lesson. Hm?”

Rey then hears a clink below her. Ben lets go her wrists and removes his knee from the swing—she hears another clink. She sits up on her forearms to see that he has latched the leg restraints on _higher_ chain-links on the swing. Her mouth goes dry.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asks timidly, although she _knows_ what he’s doing and excitement has already rushed throughout her whole body. Her mind immediately conjures an image of her legs spreading open with restraints that high while he—

“You know,” he clears his throat, curling the restraints on both of his fists and pulls them to his biceps like he’s in a gym, his hair flopping swiftly to his face. “I’ve never thought—not in a million years, that I would do this. Especially, _here.”_

He gestures his head to the surrounding and flinches, like it pains him to admit that this place is definitely not ideal to him.

“But you—” She swallows as he stares at her accusingly, although his voice turns soft again. So intimate. “—was it your game to _tease_ me since you showed up? To drive me crazy?”

She licks her lips, and then spreads her legs slightly wider. “...maybe.”

Ben gulps, and she notices his grip on the restraints tightens.

He licks his lower lip. “Bad. _Kitten.”_

Rey’s breathing catches. He then lets go the strains, hooking his index fingers on the waistband of her leggings. “You’re going to pay for—”

_Bark!_

Rey and Ben immediately freeze, staring at each other. _What?_

“Did you… hear that?” she asks, struggling to sit up on her hands while Ben's gripping her hips like he won't let go.

_Bark!_

She cranes her neck as he turns to look at the floor. There they see the familiar Boston Terrier wagging his tail at them, looking happy as a clam.

“Yoda?!” Rey pulls down her sweater in an instant, pushing Ben’s hands away from her hips. He takes a glance at her disapprovingly before glaring at the dog.

“How—” Ben pinches the bridge of his nose before shouting at him. “How the fuck did you get in?”

There’s a sound of a door slamming against the wall. Rey jumps and fixes her bra underneath her sweater in panic. Ben takes a step back from the swing, looking still very much dumbfounded. She’s sure she is too, because—

“Oh, good,” the person at the door says, leaning on the frame. He pulls out a lollipop from his mouth and then waves it to them like a wand. “You’re both still dressed.”

Rey looks as Ben’s face turns white like he’s just seen a ghost.

But it’s not a ghost he sees. It’s his uncle.  

And Yoda barks again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _When Ben comes out of the shower, Rey is in the middle of arranging Luke’s dildos in a triangular shape on the floor._  
>   
> ...is a sentence I've never thought I would write, but here we are.  
>   
> Sorry for the late update. ^^;  
> I planned on updating much sooner, but then I had an epiphany (lol) and rewrote the entire chapter. Since then I couldn't stop re-editing it. If you found any grammatical mistakes or some nonsense ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯, it's all on me.  
> (Apparently, I still don't know how to make a moodboard, so that's ↑ what you got. There's a literal bowling pin formation, because I don't want to get flagged by tumblr.)  
>   
> Thank you for your delightful responses on the previous chapter.  
> And thank to my dear beta, commandercrouton.  
>   
> One more chapter to go! <3


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